


Of Cat-Scented Tents and Terrible Fire Whiskey

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Camping, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Multi, Treat, eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: -Or Harry has an idea. Ron and Hermione go along reluctantly.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Of Cat-Scented Tents and Terrible Fire Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atlanta_Black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanta_Black/gifts).



Eighth year was a drag on all of them. Ron hadn’t meant to go back, but Harry and Hermione both did, and he couldn’t let them deal with Slytherin shit and Potions shit and “oh my God, you mean you’re the [insert one of their names here]? Can I have an autograph?” shit all by themselves.

So here they were, at the end of the first term. Hermione was in a state of her usual post-exam jitters that not even hunting Horcruxes and facing down Voldemort had cured. Ron was reminding them how much he hated camping. And Harry was still as enthusiastic about the idea as he had been when he first proposed it.

“Come on,” he wheedled. “You want to get out of here for a bit, don’t you?”

“I can just go home,” Ron pointed out. “Mum and Dad would be thrilled.”

“You are going home, Ron. On Christmas day, remember? I’m talking about before that. The holidays are almost three weeks.”

“What about after Christmas, Harry?” Hermione suggested, a tad cautious. “The week between Christmas and New Year is always…well…dead.”

“Yeah!” Ron agreed, perking up. “And dead boring.”

“Fine,” Harry conceded. “But I still think camping first would make us…appreciate going to the Burrow even more, you know?”

They didn’t agree, so after Christmas it was.

*

The fire crackled in its jam jar. Harry and Hermione tried roasting marshmallows over it. “These don’t taste right,” Harry decided.

“Witch-fire was never meant for marshmallows,” Hermione lamented.

“’Witch-fire’?” Harry protested. “Isn’t that sexist? _I_ can cast it.”

“It’s an old term,” Hermione explained. “Muggles called it that, for want of another explanation.”

Harry smiled around at them. “Isn’t this great? Roasting marshmallows, Hermione explaining history things… Just like old times.”

“Camping _was_ a good idea!” Ron allowed, leaning back and opening a bag of crisps. “But I’m so bored, Harry.”

“getting a new tent would have been ideal, too,” Hermione mused, setting aside the large book lying open on her lap. “This one still smells like cats and trout.” She shuddered.

Harry grinned at them. “You may be bored, but it’s a better memory than, y’know, running from the law and searching for Horcruxes.”

“Please tell me you _at least_ brought that bottle of fire whiskey I gave you for your birthday,” Ron groaned, giving Harry puppy dog eyes.

“’Course I did. And the bottle of Elf-made wine Bill and Fleur gave me for Christmas. And the bottle of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Ogden’s from Ab. He makes it himself, you know.”

“Oh, thank god,” Ron and Hermione sighed in unison.

Then the last part of his statement seemed to register. “Wait,” Hermione said, drawing the word out. “You accepted alcohol. From Aberforth? Are we thinking of the same person, Harry? Have you been to the Hog’s Head?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Guess that just means more for me.”

Hermione turned out to be right about I Can’t Believe It’s Not Ogden’s.

“That’s poison,” Harry wheezed after a generous swallow.

“It’s okay, mate.” Ron patted him on the head, sipping from his own, more reputable drink. Hermione, meanwhile, Vanished the rest of Aberforth’s contribution before Harry could get any ideas and try it again.

“You guys are always looking out for me,” Harry sighed, taking both their hands.

“Merlin knows you need it,” Ron muttered, squeezing Harry’s hand in return.

Hermione giggled. “That’s rich, coming from you, Ron. Without me, you’d both be dead, or worse, _expelled_ by now.”

“And without us, you’d never have discovered the joys of breaking rules.” Ron grinned at her.

It was getting late. Hermione Summoned their sleeping bags. Harry looked on, suddenly feeling awkward. “The two of you are going to share one, aren’t you?”

Ever since they’d kissed during the Battle, he’d tried to be happy for them, and mostly managed it. But he felt like the odd one out. Tonight was the happiest he’d been in…weeks, probably.

They looked at each other, then at him, seeming to communicate something wordlessly.  
“You could join us, if you want,” Ron suggested, his ears going a little pink. Hermione nodded along.

“Just like that?” Harry’s heart gave a weird sort of somersault. It made so much sense, the answer to a question he’d been either too shy or too embarrassed to ask.

“Why not?” Hermione smiled, a small, almost unnoticeable dimple appearing in one of her cheeks. Harry had always found it adorable. “We spend so much time together, so why not this, too?”

And that was that. They unzip their sleeping bags and huddle together beneath them, Harry in the middle, Ron and Hermione sprawled on either side. It was by far the most comfortable any of them had ever been while camping. And possibly ever, for Harry.


End file.
